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Grab Bag of Loosely Connected Thoughts

3/3/2021

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Good morning, Readers!
Picture
Image by Meryl Katys from Pixabay
I wish I had something fun and exciting to report, but my life is an endless cycle of work, write, sleep, repeat.

That’s it.

That’s all I have going on right now.

I’m sure there is news in the Twitterverse I could make a note of and speak on, but I find I don’t have the energy for that. I just don’t have the time or the mental energy to devote to all the stupidity I see there on a daily basis.  I just don’t.

I’m recovering my sense of smell and taste, ever so slowly. My smell is almost returned, my taste not so much. I got very excited a couple of nights ago when I could smell the rice cooking. I can also now taste bread (sort of), but most other things still have no taste. I discovered this in the night, when, as a treat, I spread some homemade peach jam given to me by my dear friends for Xmas on some bread and happily sat down. I forgot I couldn’t taste at all, so all I have to report is that the jam was sweet.

That’s all I got from it.

I’m sure it was delicious.

Not tasting sucks.

I’ve been doing a lot of dreaming of late of running away from everything and going to live in the forest somewhere. I can see it so clearly; me, with a cup of tea, sitting at the window, watching the snow fall. It looks and feels peaceful, and I’m sad that it will never be my reality. Not at this rate. I’ll be working until the day I die, still trying to realize my dream of being a full-time fiction writer.

I’m in a weird place at the moment; teetering on the edge of depression. Thank heavens for the diagnosis and therapy - I can recognize what’s happening and can do things that help ease the weight or make it pass quicker. It’s no longer the scary monster it once was. But it still sucks and hovering on the edge of it is also really sucky.

Anyway, I’m going to leave this non-post here for now. I’ve not really said anything substantial, so I’ll leave you with this:

Black lives matter.

Trans rights are human rights.

Women are people.

Wear your fucking masks.

Get vaccinated.

Ciao!
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    S.M. Carrière, a Celtic Studies enthusiast, writes fiction.  And this blog.

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